


All He Can Spare

by RichmanBachard



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Choking, Creampie, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Mild Daddy Kink, Mild Good Boy Kink, Present Tense, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 02:09:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17778572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichmanBachard/pseuds/RichmanBachard
Summary: Wesker shows Krauser who’s boss.





	All He Can Spare

**Author's Note:**

> The second and final present tense addition.. for now. Resident Evil kick I’ve been on has paid off. Enjoy. 
> 
>  
> 
> For Red

Wiping the blood from his mouth, its thick and has that unforgettable taste. Krauser grins, hocking to spit, a bloodied tooth coming with it as he cracks his knuckles. 

Across from him, his adversary adjusts his glasses. Wesker’s attempt to hide his sneer fell short. “Still standing?” He says, a coy look on his face. “Surely, you must know when you are beaten.” He steps forward, the crunch of leather filling the sound between them as he points downward. “Now, be a good boy.. and _submit_.” 

Krauser chuckles out a hearty laugh before grunting, rushing forward to take him on again. When Wesker slips to the side, he smacks the back of Krauser’s head playfully. This only enrages him, doubling back to sweep his opponents leg. It works – for a moment – allowing a window for him to clock Wesker several times across the face; hard, unrelenting blows, the sharp impact of one leaving a cut across the chiseled flesh of his cheek. Krauser’s arm hurts like hell but he’s damn proud of his hooks.

On the ground and with his hair in shambles, Wesker remains still – allowing Krauser the chance to lower his his guard. Slowly, two fingers from his gloved hand run over the cut, then he moves to taste the result. He smiles. “All that for a drop of blood..?”

In seconds, Wesker vanishes and reappears so quickly it makes Krauser’s head spin. Behind him, tall, dark, and handsome hits the mercenary twice in the lower back, then kicks his leg out, sending him to his knees. Wesker pushes him over so that his opponent’s on all fours. In the process, the madman had managed to undo the restraints to the mercenary’s trousers. Krauser remained there; sweaty, bloodied, knowing what was to come. The sound of his superior undoing the clasp of his own belt was heard, and it put a lump in his throat.

“I tire of your insolence, you fucking buffoon.” Wesker runs a hand through his hair, pushing it all back. Maintaining a man’s composure was important, especially now. And as his rock hard cock unveiled itself, Krauser felt the cool air hit his bare ass. It drives a tingling sensation up his spine.

Wesker wets his hand with saliva, smearing it over his glans before lining himself up. “And yet, I hunger..” Krauser feels him poking and prodding, slathering him with more spit. “And you are so delectable..” Before the mercenary could interject, his ass is split open by the thick head of Wesker’s cock.

Hiding his whimper with a ferocious growl, Krauser’s attempt to move was disrupted as Wesker gripped his body, forcing him to take more of his cock. 

It burns and several expletives spill from Krauser’s lips, through gritted teeth. His hole constricts, reflexively gripping the intrusion, resisting – but it was all for naught. He’s too big, moving far too deep, and when the curve of his cockhead glides over the sweet little button of immeasurable pleasure deep inside him, Krauser moans like a common, cock-loving whore. It makes Wesker sneer, picking up the pace, his grip on his shoulders all the tighter. 

Wesker’s groans were sweet, coming from somewhere deep in his throat. Power was everything to him; the right to be a God, but deeper than that, a more primal desire lurked within him – the lust of having his cock sucked, worshipped, plunged inside whatever orfice slick enough to handle the length of his manhood. Krauser was another in a long line of inferiors prey to his carnal lust – so when the blonde devil coos, he reassures him. “It’s like it- like you, were made just for me.”

The comment causes Krauser to stir, his own cock painfully hard, leaking a healthy dollop of pre. He presses his face against the cold surface of the floor, his hands clawing at the material. “Ugh.. fuck.”

“That’s it..”

“ _Fuck you_.”

Wesker hilts inside him, and subsequently halts his motions. He lingers there, sheathed inside. Then, slowly, he pulls out with a wet pop. Krauser objects. “W-..” His grunt was silent, his body betraying him. “Wait.. n-no..”

A gloved palm marks the firm flesh of his ass. “What was that?” Another smack. “Oh.. poor thing, what ever could you want?”

Krauser’s lips creak open, to speak, to cry for more. But his pride was always stronger than his lust. “Fuck…you.”

The bastard smiles again, the sight unbecoming of Krauser’s stature. Face down, ass up, desperate for more – countless men and women were like this for him, dozens broken down into cock-hungry, quivering masses of flesh. But Krauser.. he was stubborn, too few were. He relishes the challenge. 

So when he plunges back in deep, Krauser makes a noise he could never forget. 

Wesker’s thrusts are relentless now. Hunched over his form, his grip firm. He takes Krauser in a brutal, possessive pounding.

Krauser’s expletives remain constant, and all the more slutty. “Ugh.. fuck.. fuck me, _daddy_ ,” he says, and it lights a fire in Wesker’s core. 

Wesker throws an armbar, closing it around Krauser’s throat and his upper half is brought up, held close to him. Wesker’s other hand runs down the taut abs of his body, before dripping further. When he grasps Krauser’s cock, the merc whimpers as he’s vigorously jerked off.

“ _Cum for me_.”

With his airway closing off, Krauser’s close to blacking our when he climaxes on command. And he _screams_. Spewing rope after rope of pleasure as Wesker reaches his own peak, sowing his seed deep inside his partner’s core. Krauser shudders at the feel, so warm and full. 

Before the two can bask in some semblance of an afterglow, Wesker releases him and Krauser falls against the floor – catching himself with his hands, his chest heaving, clinging to any shred of air he could suck in.

Wesker runs another hand through his hair, slicking it back. He regains his composure, tidies up. 

He says nary a word, merely grasping the back of Krauser’s neck. When the hand vanishes, the mercenary is overcome with an overwhelming sense of disgust and shame. 

And he _loves_ it.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow [@RichmanBachard](https://twitter.com/RichmanBachard) and [@RichmanSFW](https://twitter.com/RichmanSFW) to keep up with my stories, my commission info, and my insanity.


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